Where it all went wrong.

Thinking back, the cataclysm that would be my sex life had been predicted long ago. My first sexual experience – boy on top, two thrusts, ejaculation, him crying, me walking out – should have sent alarm bells ringing in my head. Somehow, I was an idiot and slept with him again.
A line from Sex & the City rings very true here, and rather encapsulates how I felt then about the experience: “Fuck me badly once, shame on you. Fuck me badly twice, shame on me.” I should have listened to Samantha Jones. After such a disaster, things could only get better, right?

Wrong. This tragic event was followed by another year of abstinence, only briefly punctuated by a brief flirtation with a boy who not only had a penis so small it made me feel like I was molesting a child, but who was so concious of his tiny willy that he once said to me, “If you don’t touch my bollocks, I will feel like they are too small.” Obviously, that was it and it was over there and then.

I then met a guy that I, as a young, silly girl, was convinced was my soulmate. Our first date was in a piano bar, and to this day is still the only time I remember kissing someone and being so wrapped up in it that I was oblivious to everything else around me. We kissed for hours, and danced in the middle of this tiny, dark, basement piano bar even though no once followed our lead. I thought I had finally found my prince charming (albeit a bit early as I wasn’t even close to being out of my teenage years); that’d we’d get married in a huge castle in Scotland with a marquee , a bagpipe band manned with men in kilts and sporrans, go travelling around the world reading beatnik prose.. but no.

He turned out to be a complete bastard. He had had another girlfriend the entire time.

Heartbreak ensued, but I didn’t even have time to look for a new man who wouldn't be a cheating arsehole on match.com/at the gym, as my rebound turned out to be the guy I would be with for the best part of four years. It wasn’t love at first sight; in fact, after meeting him, I remember telling my best friend that if I were forced to be in a room alone with him, I would kill him, then kill myself. So, as you can see, not the best first impression. I found him boring, pompous and too serious for me; but he found a way to change my mind and I discovered that he was a truly great person.

We had good run, but after a few years it became obvious it couldn’t work anymore – we had lived in different cities for the past year and would theoretically have to do so for another 3, and realise that long-distance just wasn’t for us.

At this point, an intelligent decision would have been to pick any of the 300 horny teenage boys who lived in the same university halls of residency as me, which would have, quite frankly, helped me get over myself. Instead, I made the catastrophic decision of entertaining the possibility of going for my male best friend. Classic mistake.

And this is when the shitshow started.